


When the Voice Raises Itself

by nazu_gull



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: F/M, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-14 01:11:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2172291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nazu_gull/pseuds/nazu_gull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Apparently, he had heard me on the deck one day and since then he's wanted to form a band."</p>
<p>A little fic about Kaz and Paz. Not a pairing fic, but I suppose there's Kaz/Paz if you squint...</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Voice Raises Itself

Miller’s morning did not begin peacefully that day. After having had less than three hours sleep for four days running he did not really expect himself to react with tact when the he found out that someone had forgotten to move a significant portion of that month’s shipment of meats into the freezer. The Caribbean climate had hardly slackened the decay rate of meat and the sharp smell from the crates of greying beef and mutton did more than worsen his early morning headache. He profusely grilled the nearest worker who was on mess hall duty that morning and when the kitchen hand tried to point the blame to someone else, he yelled at him about how none of that mattered because they’d wasted it all anyway and that negligence from a whole team was inexcusable. Discarding what would’ve been perfectly good food gave Miller a heartache and for the safety of the kitchen staff he decided he wasn’t going to stay around to clean up their mess.

He shouted at them to get their act together and with that he ended his spectacularly vulgar lecture to storm out of the mess hall for some coffee from the researchers’ common room next door. There was no way he could get anything done in such a mood and Miller knew when he needed a break. Along with some fresh air, maybe.

With a steaming cup of coffee he strode past the wet kitchen once more and caught a whiff of the conversation the workers were having. He didn’t need to hear the rest of their banter to realise they were coarsely grumbling about their deputy chief. He rolled his eyes. Didn’t they realise he was still in the vicinity?

Out of boyish spite he turned back, popped around the kitchen door and barked at the workers to stop gossiping and that he’d better find it all cleaned up by lunchtime. As he stifled a satisfied grin at their shock and their embarrassed ‘yessirs’, a small part of him reluctantly acknowledged that this was precisely why Snake was the boss around here, not him.

On the way up to the deck he bumped into one of the new recruits (Swan, was it?) along the corridor and gave her a smile. She replied with a respectful nod. He liked her chestnut brown hair and how it trailed behind her as she walked past him. He felt a little better already. He thought Snake should recruit more women on the field. Surely, he wasn’t the only one around here who believed it would give a definite boost in morale.

His frown returned soon after when around the corner he encountered Huey and Strangelove who called out to him and started to convincingly plead (and demand) for additional urgent funding in R&D. Miller groaned inwardly; capital hadn’t exactly been healthy lately. On top of that, a compulsory vegetarian month was looming thanks to the mess hall’s latest snag. Low meat meant low drive for the soldiers and that was never good. His mind distractedly drifted from gross military production to crates of smelly meats. Oh, the wastage.

Miller said he’d have to think about it later and that he’d let them know the verdict tomorrow after looking at the reports. He sighed especially audibly as he added one more to his mental to-do list. It felt like everything was going far from smoothly lately and this morning seemed to be crammed with his rethinking on his investment in this funky business called MSF.

The rest of his walk up to the deck was fortunately uninterrupted and Miller finally found himself alone in the open air. He leaned over the steel balustrade with his lukewarm coffee in hand as he savoured the view of the whole of Mother Base under the clear sky, from her skeletons of steel trusses to the working miniscule men whose voices were softer than the shooting range gunshots muffled by distance.

He took in a slow breath of salty sea air that came with a tinge of coffee and smoke from the factories, and he reminded himself what his work was all for. Everything he was seeing, hearing, smelling at that moment, they were all the rewards from his slogging. He believed the base was in some way a physical manifestation of his worth.

His work was far from done, but Miller felt immensely proud of the results of his efforts so far and with effects like these, what could he be but a diligent worker? He suddenly found himself marginally looking forward to reading the financial reports that night. Even containers of wasted meat didn’t seem like such an unsettling mental image anymore.

His unprompted evaluation was interrupted when he glimpsed out of the corner of his eye a small figure of a girl on the lower, more discreet deck, walking alongside the banister.

It looked like Paz, alone with her cat. She didn’t seem to notice there was someone just on the deck above.

He was mildly amused as he watched her sit at the edge of the deck, rearranging her skirt after settling into her place. Her slender olive legs dangled over the floor edge and it had just languidly registered in his mind that she wasn’t wearing any shoes.

She was near enough for him to discern the deadpan expression on her face. He’d expected her to look somewhat sad during moments when she didn’t have to feign sentiments through her cover, but this was all there is. A vacant visage framed by light locks, golden sunlight on wind-tussled golden hair. Even through the tint of his sunglasses her head seemed to glow. Just like an angel. He mildly scoffed at that thought.

He absent-mindedly sipped at his coffee as he continued watching her. The pale cat rubbed itself against her thigh and she looked downwards.

Her empty look melted into a smile as she lifted her hand to pet it and in that fleeting moment, all Miller saw was a young lady playing with a cat. Not an agent of any sort, just an ordinary girl. And as he watched her he started to wonder whether, despite the certain burdens of espionage, this same girl had ever felt in her even a slightest touch of affinity with the false namesake that all around here had associated her with. He wondered if she had ever, even for a brief moment, found enjoyment in this armed haven, and which of her actions up till now were bespoke, which were not.

She genuinely looked like she was enjoying herself right now, at least. Whether or not she was conscious of it, Kazuhira hoped Paz would hold onto herself when the time came.

She then turned her face towards the sunshine, still smiling a smile that only just reached her eyes.

He found his gaze lingering vaguely on her curved lips before realising his mug of coffee was empty, meaning he needed to get back to work. As he was about to turn back she started to hum a tune, which intrigued him. With a somewhat juvenile curiosity he resumed watching her with renewed amusement as she gently tipped her head side to side while petting the cat and humming. He leaned a fraction of an inch further over the railing to try to catch the familiar tune and recognised it as that song Strangelove often played, the one in the tape Paz had showed them as a client during what seemed like centuries ago.

Her humming morphed into singing and it was surprising just how beautiful her voice was. He found himself unexpectedly impressed. He solemnly listened to her song over the railing, the empty mug dangling from his hand.  

At the back of his mind passed a thought, carrying a momentary allusion to another time in another place where she wasn’t a girl coloured by war, in which she would not have been acquainted with a pair of mercenaries in a damp timber cabin on the Colombian coast. She could have made a name for herself with that voice, he thought. And instead of murky orbs under a muddy crimson hood, Miller could have seen her brilliant ocean eyes for the first time on a local concert poster and he’d think her cute but not exactly his usual type of woman. Not that he’d kick her out of bed, or anything.

He watched as she looked out over the deck and sang her song, her notes rolling immaculately smoothly through the morning. It was an odd but pleasant contrast against the constant droning of industry in Mother Base.

Her voice was charming but the methodical part of him thought about how much fuller her tune would sound with a further garnish. A guitar, maybe? He could play and she could sing. Kaz and Paz, the Peace Pair. Now, that sounded like a great band name. They could certainly try one day, he thought. Maybe even for the birthday gathering next month. He narrowed his eyes thinking of how appalling she must have thought him when he had sung for her at the sick bay the other day.

He finally turned away from the singing girl and looked out at the base as he started to playfully consider the idea. Work could wait. With sunlight on his face and her sweet song in the air he let himself enjoy this rare moment of peace.

Paz had finished her song long before she had gotten up to leave but only when she left his sight did Miller return to work, with her song stuck in his head for the rest of the day.

 

 

 


End file.
